


The Judas Contract

by zArkham



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alertnative View of Canon, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zArkham/pseuds/zArkham
Summary: Dumbledore seemed to know, down to the hour, of what had to happen to get Harry to go to his death. How did he manage this? Certainly he had various pawns who knowingly or unwittingly helped him towards his goal of furthering the Greater Good. Yet his greatest achievement was the witch who stood by Harry throughout it all.This is Hermione's story. The hidden 'rest of the story' where she worked to save Britain from Voldemort by ensuring that Harry became the martyr he needed to be. This is NOT a Evil Hermione story.





	The Judas Contract

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER THE FIRST: It is by JKR’s writing alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the grace of coffee that thoughts acquire speed, the back acquires strains, the strains become a warning. The warning is that I make no money from this. It is by JKR’s writing alone I set my mind in motion. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER THE SECOND: I am using the version of Hermione from the play where she’s a POC. Why? One reason is why not? One thing I like about BBC shows is they often have POC without ever making any issue out of it. They just are. Secondly, the movies had the Asian Cho Chang being portrayed by an actress from Scotland. So let’s subvert expectations! Thirdly, writers are supposed to challenge readers to think outside the box. So many refuse and get downright angry when I don’t write characters to match their head-canon. I FEED OFF YOUR TEARS when you write in and complain. You’ve been warned.

**PITHY STATEMENT RELATING TO THIS CHAPTER** : “ _Fear is the mother of foresight._ ” **Thomas Hardy** – English novelist and poet – 1840-1928

 **Last Updated** : 05-14-2020  
  


 **DARTMOUTH MOOR, OTTERY ST. CATCHPOLE, AUGUST 15** **th** **, 1974 – EARLY EVENING**

The grim looks on the two auror’s faces told Albus everything he didn’t want to know about was going on. The small sound of anguish from Neoptolemus told him that the Hit-Wizard feared the worst as well. It had been bad enough to learn on arrival that Arthur Weasley was already on his way to St. Mungo’s with spell damage to the head.

“Headmaster,” both aurors said when he was near enough.

“My dear boys, I fear you have grave news for us?” Albus asked.

Senior Auror Seui Chang’s face took on a sour look at the being called a boy but it was Auror Cassius Bell who spoke up, “We do. It’s bad, Headmaster. It looks like they are taking our recent successes poorly. Since Xenophillius Lovegood is protected by the Unspeakables and no one yet has been able to take down Hit-Wizard Neoptolemus...well it looks like they went after the closest target they could reach.”

“Melissa?” Neoptolemus asked fearfully. “She should still be safe in France!”

Chang’s face turned dark. “She still is, thank the gods. Because she shouldn’t have to see this. Shen take me that I had to see it.”

Bell gestured toward a patch of the marsh grass which had been tramped down, “It’s not pretty, Headmaster. It’s downright evil.”

Albus nodded and made his way towards where Bell indicated. He steeled himself given he knew from direct experience how the Dark could use magic to violate a body. Sadly, even expecting it to be bad, Albus felt cold as he came upon what was left of one of his Order of the Phoenix members. Neoptolemus hissed in anger beside him. Without the hint from Bell, Albus would have been hard pressed to identify the pitiful remains of what had been a just and kind wizard.

“If it weren’t for the birds, we might have missed the body,” Chang said from behind them. “Bell thinks we caught them prepping the signs. You know how they want you to follow the trail, letting the dread build?”

“I do,” Albus said tightly. His heart went out to the Lovegood family, now tragically one fewer with the death of Botholio Trelawney.

“They will pay for this, I swear!” snarled Neoptolemus. “Xeno is sure if he can get just a few more data points that he will be able to be able to predict their next big strike. Then we’ll have those murdering bastards! This is just evil for evil’s sake.”

Chang came up and laid a hand on the older wizard’s shoulder, “I’m with you Neo. They have to pay. They don’t deserve another day on this Earth for their crimes.”

“No, Auror Chang. We can’t go down that road. It only leads to the Dark in the end,” Albus chided, finding it hard to look away from the awful sight before him.

“ _Down that road?_ Are you listening to yourself Albus?” Neoptolemus raged. “We lose people in every fight. Even when we are victorious, we are losing people! One by one, they are picking us off and you refuse to budge! We lost four people in capturing 20 Death Eaters in two months of fighting and for what? To have them broken out of the Ministry holding cells before they could be sent to Azkaban, that’s what! How many more will we lose just to do it all over again?”

“I have to agree with Auror Chang and Hit-Wizard Neoplotemus, sir,” Bell said carefully. “While the Knights of Walpurgis were murderous bastards, at least they fought like soldiers and it was only Grindelwald’s fanatics that were ever this bad. These Death Eaters? They all seem to be fanatics! Terror seems to be their weapon of choice. It’s not honorable and it’s downright evil.

Don’t get me wrong, sir. I’m with you about trying to be better than our opponents, but these attacks show what evil animals we are fighting..”

“Auror Bell, dehumanizing your opponent leads to not seeing them as the people they are. That is the easy way, rather than the right way. No matter what their crimes, they are witches and wizards whose magical blood is precious to our community and thus can’t be wasted due to them being led astray by Voldemort. That and what good is it that we defeat Voldemort only to lose our way in the process? Using lethal methods will only escalate the conflict,” Albus said firmly as he turned to the other wizards and hit them with his best stern Headmaster look.

Neoptolemus, however, wasn’t cowed, “Tell the Death Eaters that, Albus! So far they are throwing themselves into the fight with reckless abandon because they know we won’t kill them. You keep preaching the Greater Good but what good is it if we all die, righteous and filled with the knowledge that we died true to our convictions? We’ll still be dead and there will be no one to hold back the terror that will follow. How long before their blood-lust makes them cross the Channel? How long before they start targeting Muggles in earnest? Given what we’ve already seen, can the Statute take more of this? Can we risk the chance that the ICW will intervene too late? All because of _**your**_ precious convictions, Supreme Warlock?”

The Hit-Wizard turned and walked away. Over his shoulder he called back, “I’m sure Melissa will be heartened to know her husband didn’t kill any of his murderers. I wonder how much that comfort that he wasn’t able to take a few of them with him will warm her cold bed?”

Albus didn’t reply. He didn’t miss the looks that passed between Chang and Bell. If the aurors, especially veterans from the last war, were beginning to waiver this early in the conflict, he needed to do something and do it quickly.

At the very least, he needed to increase recruiting for his Order. Witches and wizards who were willing not to compromise their ideals when confronting the Dark.

**XxXxX**

**HEADMASTER’S OFFICE, HOGWARTS, AUGUST 16** **th** **, 1974 – LATE AFTERNOON**

Albus Dumbledore was not happy and this vexed him.

In his youth, Dumbledore had been gifted the new book _Utilitarianism_ from the Muggle philosopher John Stuart. This book had been a revelation to him. He had long walked the path to learn the ancient art of alchemy which appealed to his sense of how magic made one master of the common, base matter. What Nature could not do; magic made a mockery of the Natural Law. But such power without a framework and a morality to go with it only led to the ruin of the Dark.

He and Gellert had debated the issue at length. The one conclusion they both agreed to was that power was a constant. Those in power had a duty to use it. For Dumbledore, Utilitarianism was a road map towards using that power wisely. The masses needed guidance and working towards the Greater Good would promote an ever-increasing level of happiness.

In all things it was easy to debase, soil and destroy and magic was no different in that regard. Yet only through happiness, joy and love could one attain the true levels of what magic was capable of. The Patronus charm was the perfect example of that. Joy made manifest that uplifted all in its presence and chased away the Dark. The more the common people could come to achieving such magics, the more they as a whole advanced to a Greater Good filled with happiness and peace.

But peace was not the order of the day.

The civil war led by the boy he himself had first contacted about his magic was heating up. The self-styled Lord Voldemort preached a doctrine antithetical to the Greater Good. Voldemort, like Gellert had been seduced by the Dark into thinking that the power they had gave them a right to impose an order that did nothing but enriched themselves. To Voldemort, the only Greater Good was that which was beneficial to him. The horrors that gave Voldemort ‘joy’ were an abomination that Dumbledore could not allow to continue.

The previous night’s atrocity pushed him to make a difficult decision but one necessary if the Greater Good was to survive in Britain. He could not afford for his Order to waiver in its convictions and devolve into a vigilante group answering death with more death. It was enough of an effort to keep the Wizengamot and ECMS in line. If his own personal Order began to use lethal forces, the dam would break and Magical Britain would be awash in blood it could not afford to lose.

As he descended into the bowels of Hogwarts, Dumbledore was still debating the decision he had made. A tool which wasn’t used might as well not exist. Yet did not every generation think their own trials were the worst which required drastic actions? However, as Dumbledore finally reached to the lowest levels of his school to a door only he as Headmaster could see, he decided that it was too soon after the trials of the war with Grindelwald for another Dark Lord to be allowed to rise. Worse, he could not let the likes of Charlus Potter and the rest of the old guard of the previous war succeed in their quest for death to be met with more death.

**OoOoO**

The demon looked bored after Dumbledore finished his question. The Headmaster thought that given this demon had been bound to the school since its founding, it would be more excited to have some interaction. That and every time it was asked a question of the future, its freedom was that much closer. That had been part of the original pact which the Founders had used to trick the demon into captivity.

“I must say, you seem less than excited that your freedom is one step nearer,” Dumbledore said, giving voice to his thoughts.

The bound demon flexed its wings in a demonic shrug, “I have been one step away from freedom since the day I was bound, wizard. I see the future, I breathe the future, I live in the future. The now is always just a brief moment for me. Today is just the day after the Founders bound me as it is the day before I’m freed. I’m bored now as I was bored then for they are the same thing to me. Only in my home realm can I be truly free to enjoy the past, the present and the future in anything remotely like the way your limited senses perceive reality. Only then can I live again. This is just a momentary, if bothersome, interlude.”

As the demon spoke, a quill was writing out on a parchment on a small table against the wall by the door. It, like Dumbledore, was as far away from the demon as the room allowed.

When the quill finally stilled, the demon actually smiled, “I enjoy when you mortals bring me questions like this. Everything I am telling you can lead to your destruction. Seeing the future is to be seen by the future. You are putting the chains of future knowledge upon yourself, making you a slave of Fate. Yet time after time, you and your predecessors have made the trek to my prison only to take up the prison of foresight because the fear of the unknown is too terrible to bear. How ironic that you wizards lord your power of magic over the normal human as a sign you are better than them. Yet it is they, the ones who have to face the future with their own wits and cunning, that are the strong ones. Your power makes you weak and the irony is at least a partial recompense for my imprisonment.

Dumbledore shrugged in return, “Weakness or not. The cost is too great not to use the tools I have available to me. Yes, I would much rather to rely on other measures but I would not be so arrogant again to think that only I alone can stand against the ruin of the Light. The burden of knowledge will be mine to keep. So if the time comes to pay the price, then it will be on my shoulders alone.

The demon cackled in a way that seemed to chill the very air, “So noble! So self-sacrificing! Sadly, you will not see how wrong you are till it is far too late to do anything about it. Play your games, move your pieces and fight for your Greater Good. In the end, the pawn will become the Queen and will turn the game upside down. Will the result be Light or Dark...or are such things just handy labels you mortals use to try and justify your own selfish positions in a way which pleases you best? It matters not. The game is set. Go! Marshal your pieces and set your strategy with what I’ve given you. I will enjoy watching this game play out as I’ve foreseen.”

Dumbledore took up the parchment and left as the demon turned back to the orb it was peering into when he had first entered.

As he began to make the long trek up to his seventh-floor office, Dumbledore pondered what the demon had said. He knew the danger of dealing with demons is that they actually rarely lied. Yet how they interpreted the truth was different than for humans. To them, mighty events might be insignificant compared to some other event which would later have larger effects. Using the demon’s predictions might cause him to lose to Voldemort but for that loss to create a larger movement which could advance the Greater Good. Or he would triumph over Voldemort only to lose the peace as it were. As the demon said, using any sort of future knowledge was dangerous but the deprave acts of Voldemort and his Death Eaters made it worth the risk.

It was, after all, for the Greater Good.

**XxXxX**

**CAFETERIA, IMPERIAL COLLEGE DENTAL CENTRE, LONDON, SEPTEMBER 16** **th** **, 1974 – AFTERNOON**

Albus looked over his half-moon glasses at the dusky student drinking his tea while flipping idly through his textbook. The man represented a validation of the innate goodness in existence in Albus’ eyes. Too often life seemed capricious and cruel and the ongoing war seemed to bear that out. Yet this man and the woman he was waiting for was proof to Albus that the Greater Good provided the tools needed to those who fought for the Light. How else could Albus explain the serendipity in these two people that he needed were both attending the same school?

Dumbledore knew the best way to fail when dealing with demons or any venue of divination was to ask too specific of a question. The answers to that usually never turned out the way one wanted. The better way was to ask for directions towards what was needed to help achieve one’s goals. This introduced enough uncertainty that helped to at once see into the future even as it kept that same future up to one’s ability to interpret the clues one was given.

In this case, Dumbledore had deduced that he had to bring about another union of a previous one. This had led him to London where he was surprised to see what this actually entailed. The man at the other table was Dan Granger, the great-great grandson of Paris Granger. The woman he was waiting for was the great-great granddaughter of Helen Dagworth.

Albus had literally chortled with glee when the implications of this came about. For his machinations would not only produce a needed piece in the game against Voldemort but would bring back one and perhaps two magical Houses which had gone dark.

Dragonpox, that perennial scourge of the magical world, had laid low both the Noble House of Dagworth as well as the Ancient House of Granger. Both were left with only a single witch to bear an heir to their families. In a twist of fate worthy of a Greek play, both witches spurned men and fell in love with each other. They went to the Druids to have a magical union performed. While not sanctioned by the Wizengamot, family magicks did not follow the rules. Then after using dangerous magics, three children were born: Hector Dagworth, Helen Dagworth and Paris Granger.

The magics the witches had used to bring forth children from both of them was later banned a decade later. It was felt that any male child of such a union was not a true male but more of a magical abomination. Dumbledore just felt it was a way to keep the power in the male line only but the injunction against such thing still held to the present day.

Unfortunately, only Hector was magical with the other two being born squibs. Thus it was Hector who went on to become the head of the new Dagworth-Granger line. Hector proved to be a potions master of renown, founding the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. However his own magical power was low and in two generations, the line squibbed out leaving Magical Britain mourning the loss of two more of the old Houses.

The door chimed as it opened and a woman with a similar dusky complexion entered. Albus smiled to himself as he nibbled on the scone in front of him. Again the Greater Good had smiled upon him as both Emma Puckle and Dan Granger came from mixed marriages. Dan’s mother was from South Africa, mistress to a prominent English businessman in Johannesburg. Emma’s mother’s family was originally from Bermuda even though they had been living in the UK now for a full generation. Both had felt the subtle and not-so-subtle sting of racism which gave Albus a hook for him to hang his plans.

Ironic that the descendants of Hector Dagworth-Granger, who did great work with love potions, would now be brought together by light doses of the same. In truth, Albus had found he had had to do little after the initial meddling to get them together. Both came from aristocratic backgrounds. Both looked down on what they thought were the masses who let others think for them. Indeed, Dan Granger’s father was an ardent supporter of Apartheid even as he pretended that he hadn’t fathered a son through his black mistress. A mistress who supposedly had been married to a friend and foreman who died in a violent race riot. This fiction gave him cover to be so interested in the woman and her son. Amazingly both his mother and Dan had adopted the man’s attitudes. While Albus was not an ardent supporter of blood purity, Dan’s views on people would not put him out of place with many on the Wizengamot.

Emma, on the other hand, was born into privilege but saw this as a mark that she and her family were superior. She was the youngest of three and her family might as well have been following the script laid down generations ago throughout Europe. Her oldest brother was being groomed to take over the family business that still owned major farms in Bermuda. The younger brother was currently serving in the British Navy with distinction. Instead of going into the priesthood, Emma had taken to a life of medical service. Her family had already started working in the background to set her up with a private practice catering to the elites in need of cosmetic surgery.

For Albus, both were perfect. They would understand how their status meant they had a responsibility to guide those below them. They also would jump at the chance for their children to resurrect the Noble House of Dagworth along with the Ancient House of Granger. Thus they would have power and privilege in both worlds. Self-interest, Albus had found, was an easy goad to get people to do what was right to advance the Greater Good.

Albus sat back as Emma sat down and the pair began to talk in low tones. He enjoyed his tea and scones while occasionally looking at himself in the mirror which covered one of the walls of the cafeteria. As much as he loved robes, the flashier the better, Albus was happy that he still looked quite dashing in his three-piece suit. Of course a glamour had to be used to make him look more like he had looked back in the 30’s. The beard that was almost down to his belt-line would certainly clash with the finely tailored suit.

A squeal from Emma caused him to look up to see Dan Granger holding a small box with a shiny ring in it. Emma leapt to her feet and gave the man a crushing hug.

Albus smiled into his tea. He was one step closer to putting Voldemort down.

**XxXxX**

**STORY NOTES** : This entire idea came from a conversation with _magitech._ Anyone irritated that I’m not writing on their favorite story instead of this, send hate mail to him! =)~ Also apologies toy Marv Wolfman and George Pérez in regard to the name of this fic.

Like what I’m trying to eventually do with _Another Brick in the Wall_ , this fic will all be short chapters. Mostly because the bulk of this story will be from Hermione’s POV as we see her side of various events that have happened through the series. (See my FF.net Pernicious Story Bunny for this story)

For the most part, this series will mirror canon exactly (or at least canon with maybe stuff from the movies as well) but the difference is we’ll see a lot of stuff happening that was never shown in canon. So while Hermione might have told Harry and Ron one thing, unless they both were there to see it, Hermione may have well done a completely different thing.

This is not an _Evil!Hermione_ story. It’s a story where Hermione has a goal she’s been trained to do for most of her life. Like Harry, she’s a tool of Dumbledore. The difference is she knows and accepts it.

This will be a story in two parts. The first part will end with the death of Voldemort. Pretty much everything seen onscreen will be canon until after Voldemort dies. That’s when things will begin to shift not only to an AU take but also the story will alternate between Harry’s and Hermione’s POV as this fic allows me to use a story concept I’ve had for a long time but didn’t have a way (till now) to use it.


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